


Euthanasia

by OrtegaTrash (Malicei)



Series: Fallen Hero Fics [5]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark, Death, Disassociation, Drama, Flashbacks, Gen, Guilt, Memory Blanks, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mercy Killing, Minor Character Death, PTSD, Past Abuse, Trauma, Violence, anger issues, conflicted feelings, derealisation, memory problems, mental issues, mob boss, villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/OrtegaTrash
Summary: The world of heroes and villains is not a nice one. It’s messy and painful and complicated. Sometimes innocent people get hurt. Sometimes people die.You have blood on your hands and can’t always remember why.





	Euthanasia

**Author's Note:**

> Name: Léon Bellandini | Puppet: Simba | Villain name: Pride  
> Daring/arrogant/fighter/lots of contacts/gang leader.

A mind flickering in the distance, like a dying candle.

_Pain, fear, so scared what’s happening? This can’t be happening to me it’s not real_

You don’t even flinch. Death is routine to you by now. There are only so ways to die and only so many reactions to it and it blurs into one big mess of emotions after a while. Shields help, but the thing is you’ve just seen so much of it you’ve mostly just become…well, used to it.

_I’m too young this isn’t how I wanted to go I’m too young to die!_

It’s always distasteful when civilians get involved. You try to keep them out of things, but… the honest truth is that collateral damage happens. The underworld is not a kind place and people end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.  People who dip their feet into your world know what they’re signing up for, know that death can come at any moment. You’ve signed your lives away to it and once you enter the darkness the only way you truly leave its depths is through a body bag.

There’s a certain resigned acceptance that comes with that. People still aren’t happy, but it’s not the same as the complete shock that innocents get when they realise they’re just as mortal and as fallible as everyone else.

Normal thugs you can go easy on. It takes too much effort to bother to make it painless for every single one that falls in the row of faceless masses, but you at least take pride in being a professional. It’s just business, nothing personal, no need to make a mess of things. You  _despise_  getting blood on your suits; your dry cleaner is discreet and reliable but you’d rather not make a habit of ruining them often enough he begins to think you’re completely incompetent at this whole thing.

Now people who have wronged you, that’s another story. The guilty and the corrupt. The so-called heroes. People who indulge in this cruel game of society built on the blood of those underneath them…

Despicable.

It’s them you have a personal vendetta against. Let them feel everything they’ve done to you, let them suffer as you did. Their pain won’t do much to ease your need to destroy them, it won’t satisfy the void in your heart or make the scars you have disappear.

But their screaming is so, so sweet.

You’re certainly not an angel but you would never give someone the disservice of pretending they weren’t people too. That they didn’t have their own lives and dreams and hopes that dissolve once and for all at your own hand. You’ve had your own personhood denied and you won’t be so heartless as to deny that small acknowledgement to others.

You won’t ever be like  _Them._

That’s why you do this. Maybe these people are going to die alone drowning in their own blood and their only witness to their end an enemy who’s going to crush their face into the concrete and enjoy it. That doesn’t mean you won’t take a moment to reminisce over their last moments, to witness the flame of their mind go out and never come back.

The dead can’t hurt you any more. They  _can’t._

_~~What have  you done, Léon? You’re better than this.~~ _

_…Stop it, Anathema._

.

..

…You shake your head. You shouldn’t get caught up in your thoughts, you tend to go blank and lose your train of thought.

There are a lot of ways people deal with death. Most tend to go through the stages of grief - not always in order, not always all of them. But there are patterns.

_This can’t be real whose legs are those? why are they pointing the wrong way why are they attached to me that’s so horrible_

**Denial.**  She didn’t think anything was going to happen today. She thought bad things only happened to someone else, not people like her.

_Help me it hurts it hurts please someone help me how could they do this to me! This isn’t fair I’m not ready I’m not ready I wanted to kiss him I wanted to tell him I liked him I’ve never even had my first kiss this is not fair!_

**Anger.** She’s just a kid, her sweet 16th is supposed to be next week and now her world has fallen down around her, crushed her underneath its weight. She just wanted to take a shortcut through the alley after school. Her parents don’t know she’s here, she lied and said she was going to study at the library to sneak to a boy’s house. They’ve been sending sweet messages in class but she got her phone confiscated because of it and couldn’t call 911 and now it’s too late.

_Please, anyone! Anyone…can you hear me? Please save me I promise I’ll be good I have so many things I wanted to do so many regrets, I’ll  reform myself just please_

**Bargaining.**  There is so much she wanted to do, so much she dreamt about. She wanted to be a nurse, she wanted to help people and join a charity because she’s seen the way people are turned away from hospitals because they can’t afford it. That’s how her little brother died and the hole in her family never quite healed.  The empty chair at the dinner table is going to have one right next to it soon and this is going to crush her parents. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.

_Someone- Who’s there? An answer to desperate prayers? A gleam of gold, a red flutter in the wind who is that? Fear, adrenaline - villain come to finish me off?- So so much blood why is it outside of me that’s not right…I’m not going to make it, I have so many regrets I want to cry_

**Depression.**  She told her parents she hated them, of course she didn’t mean it. It was just anger, she was just frustrated at failing biology and the threats of repeating a grade and being left behind and she hasn’t even done anything with her life before it’s already ending. They won’t know what happened here until the knock on the door, the officer in blue. She’s so sorry she loves them she wishes she could tell them that but it’s  _too late too late too late._

You are not cruel, despite what people say. You save it for the people who have wronged you and this, this  _child_  is just an unfortunate victim. Can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, after all. You hadn’t planned for this but you’re not some sort of barbarian. No needless suffering for people who don’t deserve it.

She’s too weak to resist, too weak to even lift her head up. There’s a procedure for animals that are too badly injured to make it, you make their last moments comfortable and their deaths painless.

Idly, you wonder why humans never get that mercy. It seems backwards to you to let humans suffer when supposed ‘lesser’ animals were given relief.

Maybe it’s fitting. Humans can be such bastards capable of so much cruelty that perhaps they  _should_ suffer. Not this one though. She’s just a little lost duckling who got got smashed up against the rocks of life.

It doesn’t take much tweaking usually;  a quick in and out of their minds, cutting the pain off and letting their brains either go dark or grabbing their last thoughts and twisting them into whatever greeting they expect to come after death. A light, an soft white wings beating, the voices of loved ones long gone greeting them with open arms and promising reunion. Usually something typical like that. That’s for the ones you bother being nice to, if you have the luxury and time of being merciful.

Sometimes all you have time for is a quick twist of the neck or bullet through the brain before you need to move on. There’s no use wasting energy using your nanovores on ordinary people and besides, they don’t cut through flesh quite so neatly. They shouldn’t, at least, you’ve made many, many precautions to keep them neutered, you don’t ever want to see them disintegrate flesh-

_-Anathema’s eyes; so shocked, flesh melting peeling. The smell of flesh bubbling up and frying._

_You can’t- you can’t deal with burning meat anymore, you pretend you’re vegetarian because you’re on a diet and maybe it surprises your team because they’ve seen you murder in cold blood before but it’s because you can’t deal with the consequences with cooking and accidentally leaving the heat on too long-_

-No. No, you have a job to do, you don’t have time for this again.

She looks so small at your feet all curled up, her body unconsciously trying to protect herself by going into a fetal position. You tut and ready yourself to dive in. Honestly, you expected better of a hero. He may not have intended this but he should follow through once he’s done instead of leaving her to suffer. He should have finished the job.

Time to put her out of her misery.

Her mind is panicking, she’s dying and putting all her energy in trying to do something about it. That means it all redirects onto you, the intruder seeing her at her most vulnerable. Not that she can actually hurt you, she’s just lashing out. Her hits might as well be a child’s play ball she’s hurling at you for all the impact it makes on you.

You wrap yourself in her mother’s embrace like a veil, soft tones and lullabies and kisses on the cheek. _Memories of comforting words, stroking her hair like she’s little again and having nightmares; she doesn’t want to be alone. Her father’s crackly stubble as he hugs her close, bright golden sunlight as they play backyard baseball and a sticky little brother with golden curls and a dimpled smile, the smell of warm milk on baby breath._

“Mama,” she sobs, trembling as she buries her head in your chest. “Mama, it hurts, it hurts so  _bad._ ”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Do you want me to take the hurt away?” You feel almost bored, dutifully acting out the behaviours you see dancing through her memories. When did you become this cold to normal people? Sure, you don’t really care about her…but.

Once upon a time you used to be able to feel a little bit bad about people outside your circle. Now there is only  _You_  and  _Your people_ and  _Other_  and you’re not sure when you stopped giving a damn about anyone who wasn’t yours.

“Yes, please please please! Make it stop, make it stop!”  _She can’t take much more of this before, she’s never felt such pain before._

“Yes dear,” you soothe. “It will all be over soon.”

Disguising yourself in memories is good, it makes her willing. She trusts you now and you don’t feel any qualms about manipulating her at all because this is the only kindness you can grant her. The thread you want is frayed and almost unravelling, it takes only a moment to materialise a pair of scissors and snip away the excess. Can’t feel pain if your pain receptors are cut off from the mind, after all.

She settles down now, snuggling into your arms as the small child she feels like again. Things are becoming disjointed, her mind is beginning to dissolve around you both.

Shit. You’re running out of time.

“I love you,” you lie with her mother’s warm voice, because people would rather hear sweet lies over cold, cold truth.

She sniffles into your sleeve and urgh, all you can do is to keep from recoiling from the mental snot on your arm. Now is not the time for your own distaste to be acting up, now you have to be strong to honour this girl’s life and death.

“Mama,  _please_ ,” she begs. **“** _I don’t want to die.”_

It’s time.

_“Shh,_  it’s okay. _It’s okay,”_  you tell her, infusing your voice with milk and honey and warm sleepy summer days. You can feel her relax, beginning to drift away in your arms. “You go on ahead and take care of your little brother for us, okay?”

“…Okay.” She sniffs, letting go. “Okay.”

… **Acceptance.**

Time to go. You’re just about to head out through the fading frame of her childhood bedroom door before you feel a tug on your sleeve.

When you glance behind she’s still there. She’s still there and she’s looking at you with a strangely knowing look in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “You didn’t have to do that.”

-And then you’re ejected from her mind with a thud as the fragments begin to burn up and drift away in the wind.

You think you smell burning toast. Wha- What was  _that?_

Did she… no matter. You need to finish this quickly before what’s left of her starts to get uncertain and confused again.

Silver metal, cold under her chin. A deep inhale as you plug one ear with a finger, your other hand cocked and ready.

The ringing in your ear resounds through your head, your arm shaking from the recoil.

…There. She’s gone.

What a sight you must be, your beautiful golden armour now thoughtfully decorated in still-warm blood. It’s messier than you would have liked, but that’s life.

_Are you proud of yourself?_

You’re not sure if you can answer that, truthfully, and that infuriates you. You were supposed to steadfast, you are supposed to be Pride, you are not supposed to doubt or question if you’re doing the right thing.

No!

You don’t regret doing this, this was a  _kindness,_  this was  _mercy,_ you are not a barbarian that would let animals suffer needlessly.

_~~Isn’t it your fault that this happened to begin with? Who are you trying to convince, the world or yourself?~~ _

_Shut up, Anathema. You’re dead. Ghosts can’t talk._

.

..

Blinking, you shake your head. What…

What was it you were doing again?

* * *

He gurgles as the blood fills his mouth, spills over onto your arms while you crush his neck. The whites of his eyes spasm in their sockets as pierce through the fragile flesh of his throat, you don’t know your own strength anymore.

Good.

The world is cruel and you’ve just had to adapt to survive. Now it will be you at the top sitting on the throne, now it will be you forcing them to bow at your feet and acknowledging them.

Now one will ever be able to hurt you again.

_~~This is wrong. This is so wrong, Léon.~~ _

Fingers dance loosely trying to pry you away and weak as a newborn kitten. He’s not getting away that easily, you want him to suffer for what he’s done; for what all the heroes have done to you, for what the world has done to you.

_~~Stop. Stop. You’re torturing him.~~ _

Maybe if he didn’t want to die he should have been more careful, you sneer. Heroes were no different than you so-called villains. The only difference was that you’ve accepted the truth: that you are just as bad as the rest of them. They still have delusions about the concept of 'good’ and 'justice’.

_~~STOP IT~~ _

They don’t know the truth.  You are all pawns to be sacrificed at their amusement and you refuse to play their game when it’s rigged against you.

No. Now you will be the one in control. There’s no one who can stand in your way, there are no voices-

_~~S T O P  I T~~ _

-There is no such thing as justice given to people like you, so you are going to take what you need by force. That’s why people like him need to suffer, that’s why they will have no choice but to pay attention to you, you need to break, break, break him just like they broke you-

~~_**THAT.** _ ~~

~~_**IS.** _ ~~

~~_**E N O U G H!** _ ~~

.

..

…What?

Nothing works. You can’t move, it’s like something has come over you, all your muscles feel like they have frozen in place.

_~~What. Have.  You.  Done?~~ _

_…Go away, Anathema._

~~_WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE?_ ~~

_Please. Please just go away._

.

..

…What was that just now. Did your mind just blank out for a second?

You drop the man to the ground, too shaken to hold on. Distantly, you become aware of the fact that you’re reaching for your gun. Your hand is guiding the gun to his forehead, your finger almost moving of its own accord as you fire again and again

_and again and again you need to make sure you need to make sure_

And

And  _your heart is racing and breaking all over again and and and-_

_And **end**   **this.**_

_You want to **end…you.**_

_Yes._

_You don’t have to do this anymore. You can finally rest. It feels like sweet, sweet relief-_

-Your ears are ringing, someone is coming for you.

“Someone get the boss!”

“On it!”

“He’s not responding, I think he’s hyperventilating again-”

_Need to go. Goodbye, Ortega. Goodbye, everyone_

-Someone is grabbing you and you are shaking, you’re not supposed to do that. You need to you need to..

..to..

_You need to go, you need to MOVE_

“Someone help restrain him! He’s too strong!”

“Boss, boss, it’s okay! You’re safe, there aren’t any more enemies, they’re all dead!”-

_Glass in your skin, it hurts it hurts the pain feels like relief and you shatter all over again and again and again_

-Screaming, primal and terrifying in its distortion. Is that your voice? Your throat hurts. You don’t care you can’t care, you can’t hear properly right now

And the birds have taken flight and your team are cowering and covering their ears and you can’t  _you can’t youcan'tYOUCAN’T-_

_~~Léon.~~ _

…

~~_Oh, Léon._ ~~

_…Leave me alone._

_~~You need to stop doing this.~~ _

_Please leave me alone._

_…Why won’t you just. Leave. Me. ALONE?_

_~~Stop doing this. Stop lashing out like this, stop hurting people. Léon? Don’t ignore me.~~ _

_~~Léon?~~ _

.

..

“-Boss? Are you back with us?”

Worried looks. You resent it, you resent falling apart in front of your Family. You are supposed to be strong. If you show weakness, they will start to doubt. You need to be good enough, you need to be perfect or they will lose confidence in you and you refuse to have that.

That’s why you just give a curt nod. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem fine, that looked really intense-”

Your body is moving and your mind is along for the ride. “I. AM. FINE!”

Footsteps backwards, you were too much. Regret is apparently the emotion of the day because you’re flooded with a whole heap of it. You don’t mean to yell. You didn’t mean to get angry at their concern. This is so messed up.

If they lose confidence in you, they might leave.

And you can’t. You can’t let your Family leave. They are all you have, they are yours. You hate that you’re what The Farm made you sometimes, that this is your reflexive reaction to anything and everything.

You just…

Why couldn’t you be normal and show them you love them the normal way? You want to hold them close and yet you’re so afraid of closeness that you just push them away again.

They’re still just waiting. Waiting for an explanation. Maybe an apology that will never come - because you are Pride and you are all too proud to ever willingly admit weakness, admit that you messed up, that you were wrong.

.

..

…Nothing important happened today, everything went according to plan.

You ignore the looks your team are giving you, walking past and slipping a handkerchief out of a hidden compartment in your armour. Where did all this blood even come from? Urgh, you hate getting dirty.

You are not haunted by blank spots in your memory. You are not going crazy and you are not ever going to question if you’re on the wrong path.

Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will become real.

You’re already falling into the darkness, there’s no stopping your course now. Like a circus performer walking the tightrope, you have to keep walking. You can’t sway. If you question or hesitate you are only going to lose your balance and end up plummeting into the depths below.

You can’t look down, you mustn’t turn your head. Eyes forward; focus on the goal.

_~~Léon.~~ _

So what if your hands are painted red?

So what if the hero hadn’t meant to kill her, that he’d been a bit too overenthusiastic with his crushing abilities and didn’t take into account that the wall he took down was a load-bearing one?

So fucking what. People die.

Get over it.

Get  **over**  it.

_~~You can’t escape what you’ve done, you know.~~ _

_Please._

_~~Why do you keep hurting people? Why do you keep hurting yourself?~~ _

_Don’t. Don’t. Don’t._

Silence. The faintest whisper, the creeping feeling of unseeing blank eyes that cast judgement and you are not cowering under them because you do not cower, you will not cower any more, you are strong you won’t be a victim you will not apologise for what you are-

_~~Why are you even doing this?~~ _

-You will never apologise for what you are. You are proud of it. You are Pride and that same pride would never admit allow you even consider being wrong.

_~~Oh, Léon.~~ _

.

..

…You have absolutely no idea why, but you feel like crying.


End file.
